


What's Most Important

by afteriwake



Series: Closer To The Heart [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, F/M, Fluff, Greg Lestrade & John Watson Friendship, Greg Lestrade & Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Lestrade-centric, M/M, Mentioned John Watson/Mary Morstan - Freeform, Mentioned Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Fluff, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft is Sweet, Mycroft is a Softie, POV Greg, POV Lestrade, Paternal Lestrade, Rescue, Sally Donovan & Greg Lestrade Friendship, Silver Fox Lestrade, Snow and Ice, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:39:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade, Donovan, Sherlock and John end up in Berwick-upon-Tweed on Christmas Eve on a case and things seem to go to Hell on them. Mycroft is oblivious to most of this, unfortunately, until he gets a garbled phone call from his boyfriend and he makes the trek to rescue the four of them and bring them back to London before Christmas morning dawns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Most Important

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mm8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/gifts).



> So this is another fic written out of order for my [Christmas Fic Countdown](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/134408122533/christmas-fic-countdown-2015), inspired by the prompt “ _there’s a storm and omg i’m losing signal are you okay?? hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before christmas_.” **mm8** asked for it to be Mystrade fic and thus this was born.

**4:42 PM**

He never should have agreed to this.

The snow had been increasing the longer the four of them had been in Berwick-upon-Tweed. It had been a nearly seven hour long drive up from London, and then there’d been jurisdictional issues to hash out, and plans to make and they had only _just_ been able to get everyone gathered around the abandoned building near the mouth of the River Tweed and storm it and get the kidnappers arrested before they fled to Scotland and then on to God knew where. The little girl was safe and sound and all she wanted to do was get back home to her Mummy and Daddy in London, but with the storm getting worse, he had no idea if that was possible.

Sally hung up the phone and then shook her head and he sighed. Wonderful. It was Christmas Eve, for God’s sakes. He knew he’d much rather be home and he was damn well sure Sally would be, and John as well. Sherlock…not so sure about him. He’d been a bit more secretive these days about who he was spending time with and where he was spending it. He sighed. “So train lines are down?” he said.

Sally nodded. “Snow is actually rather rare around here. They weren’t expecting it, and certainly not this much. The roads are still open, for now, but…”

“But our car can’t handle a six hour long trip back on bad roads,” he said, running a hand over his face.

“Right,” she said. She paused. “Phones are a bit dicey at the moment, too.”

“Wonderful,” he murmured.

She moved over towards her boss. “You know, you could always call _him_ ,” she said, lowering her voice. “I know the two of you are trying to keep things quiet and all, but…I mean, he’s basically, you know, the government. He could do _something_. And the poor kid’s been through enough.”

He paused. “But he’d probably like to make his brother suffer,” he said.

“Yeah, but I mean, do you really think he wants his boyfriend stranded near the Scottish border on Christmas Eve? And remember, that means he’d have to brave his parents’ home for Christmas dinner alone and remember, I met your possible future in-laws once. You’d be an awful boyfriend if you left him to that fate.”

His mouth quirked up in a small smile at that. Mycroft would probably call out the British Army to keep that from happening. And if it meant getting little Karen back home in time to open presents in the morning, it was worth a shot. “All right, I’ll give him a call.” Sally moved away and he pulled out his mobile, pulling up Mycroft’s contact. He hit send and let it ring.

Mycroft answered after two. "Gregory?” he asked, but it sounded all garbled.

“Mycroft?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”

“Not well,” he managed to make out.

“I’m in Berwick-upon-Tweed with Sally, your brother and John. We’re stuck. We need to get back to London. Can you help?”

“You’re where?” he asked.

“Berwick. Upon. Tweed,” he repeated, enunciating each part of the town’s name. “Have a kidnap victim, need to get back to London.”

“There’s a storm in London,” Mycroft said. “I’ll—”

“Storm here, too,” Lestrade said at the same time. “Mycroft?”

“Gregory?” Mycroft said, and then there was static and then the connection was lost.

Lestrade lowered and shook his head. He turned to Sally. “I think we might be stuck here,” he said with a sigh.

Her shoulders sagged slightly. “I’ll see about getting us accommodations, then, and getting us something to eat.” He nodded, and then looked at his phone. This was _not_ how he’d planned for his holidays to go…

**6:27 PM**

Sally managed to procure three rooms at the Travelodge on the outskirts of town at Loaning Meadows. She and Karen would take one double occupancy room, Sherlock and John would take the other and Lestrade would get a room to himself.

Thank God for small favours.

They left word with the local police that if, by any miracle, anyone came asking for them to direct them there, and they got in the car to go off to the A1 to get there. They had a bite to eat at the McDonald’s nearby and stopped off at the Morrison’s to get a few snacks and drinks just in case Karen wanted something, and then went to the motel to settle in. Lestrade had the feeling it was going to be a long night.

Sally took Karen up to their room to entertain her until she fell asleep. They’d managed to get word to her parents, thank goodness, so they knew she was safe and she would eventually be on her way back. She’d even managed to get a few words in with her mum before the phone lines acted up. It was good that the case had ended well, that they’d gotten her back alive. But being trapped up north on Christmas Eve when all their loved ones were over 350 miles away put a damper on the happy ending to the case. Lestrade looked around and then settled his gaze on Sherlock and John. “God, I wish I had a pint.”

“Might be an open pub somewhere,” Sherlock said, his eyes closed.

“On Christmas Eve?” John said, giving a slightly humorous laugh. “Good luck.” He leaned back in his seat. “Any chance Scotland Yard will let us have a go at the minibar?”

“I honestly don’t care if they will or not, I’m having a go at it anyway,” Lestrade said with a shrug. “This is not where I’d planned to be tonight.”

“I imagine you were planning on being in bed with my brother,” Sherlock said.

“For your information, Sherlock, that was supposed to happen after going to Eugene Onegin at the Royal Opera House,” he said, giving Sherlock a curious look. “And why are you so blasé about it all of a sudden? I thought you disliked the fact I was dating your brother.”

“I did. Now I don’t,” he said with a shrug.

“Probably because he started shagging Molly,” John said with a smirk.

Sherlock’s eyes opened and he glared at John. “You were supposed to keep your mouth shut about that,” he said.

“Yes, well, _you_ were supposed to not tell my wife I bought her a diamond pendant and you didn’t do that, soooo…fair’s fair,” John said, his smirk growing wider.

“It’s not even a very expensive diamond necklace,” he said, crossing his arms. “It only cost you £645.”

“And normally it’s £2,790,” he said. “It’s called ‘bartering for a deal when you know their business is cheating customers.’”

Lestrade shook his head and turned back to Sherlock. ‘When did you and Molly start…?”

“Ten months ago,” Sherlock said. “After she got stood up on her Valentine’s Day date and drank a few too many drinks at the restaurant bar and came to Baker Street to seduce me. I let her, and what began as what I believe is referred to as a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement has evolved into…something.”

“A relationship,” John said.

“Not that,” Sherlock said. “But it’s something.”

“No, it’s a relationship,” John said. “You two just won’t admit it.”

Sherlock turned to face his friend. “I think I would know if I’m in a relationship or not, John, and trust me, Molly and I are _not_ in a relationship.”

Lestrade watched as John answered and Sherlock retorted, and he pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before getting up and slowly leaving the lobby. He had the feeling they wouldn’t even realize he was gone, and really, this was something he did _not_ want to get in the middle of.

**10:17 PM**

There wasn’t a minibar in the room so he braved the storm and went back to the supermarket and got John a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey at his request and a bottle of Bombay Sapphire London Gin and tonic water for him. _That_ was all Mycroft’s influence, he realized. He had mixed the drink and then laid down on the bed and flipped through channels without really focusing on what was going on, his thoughts jumping around instead.

He and Mycroft were somewhat open about their relationship, he supposed. Their friends and relatives knew; his ex-wife made snide comments about it behind his back, he knew that much, because she would say them regardless of whether his daughter was around to hear them or not. His daughter was fine with him dating Mycroft, and she didn’t mind Mycroft all that much. She liked him better than her mother’s newest boyfriend, at least, and Mycroft seemed at least mildly fond of her. It helped she was in sixth form and not very young. He wasn’t sure Mycroft would have been able to handle a younger child, even if it was his.

Aside from Sherlock not being all that pleased everyone else had been happy for them. They’d been invited over to the Watson’s home more often, and Mycroft had come with him on occasions when Sherlock would not be present, of which there had been a few. Molly had been quite pleased, and so had Sally. And Mycroft’s parents had been ecstatic; even though he got the feeling his mother had been a smidge disappointed he hadn’t taken up with his PA she seemed to like him nonetheless and there were subtle hints about making things official.

And that, it seemed was the rub.

Just because they were open with friends and family didn’t quite mean they were 100% open with the world.

He’d limited his drinks to two, just in case he got a Christmas miracle and got to go home, and he’d been spacing out his consumption. He’d just mixed himself this drink and had only had a few sips now, and he wondered if he might want to give himself a third. He wanted to make things official with Mycroft. He wouldn’t mind it at all. To hell with the people at the Yard who gave him grief for being bisexual; he loved who he loved and their gender didn’t matter a fig to him. Just because his wife had been a woman and Mycroft was a man it didn’t matter to him and it shouldn’t matter to anyone else, but he knew it would. And then there was Mycroft’s government position to consider. He had power, but he could lose that power if he came out as being in love with another man. And he’d gone over this time and again in his head and each time he just ended up drinking more than he should.

He was about to take another sip when the phone in his room rang. He figured it would be Sally, or maybe John and Sherlock needing him to make another store run, so with a sigh he set down his drink and reached over and answered it. “Yes?” he said.

“Detective Lestrade, there’s a Mycroft Holmes in the lobby for you.”

He blinked, and then grinned. Son of a bitch. He was going to get home tonight after all. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he told the woman on the line. He hung up and then grabbed his room key and then went to the door, not bothering to put his suit jacket back on. He made his way down to the lobby and saw Mycroft standing there in his normal three piece suit with his coat over it, waiting for him. “I have never been more glad to see you,” he said when he got closer.

“I felt it best you and those with you spend Christmas Day in more comfortable surroundings,” he said, giving Lestrade a small smile. “There are two cars outside with all terrain tires. As much as it would be nice to have our privacy, I thought it best if your sergeant and the little girl take one vehicle and Sergeant Donovan deposit her at home to her family before it get any later, and you and I take my brother and his partner back to their homes before we retire to my home and get some well deserved rest.”

Lestrade nodded. “Let’s hope they’re not sniping at each other still,” he said. Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Apparently your brother has a discrete liaison with someone and I wasn’t supposed to know about it.”

“Miss Hooper?” Mycroft asked.

“How did you know?” Lestrade asked with a frown.

“They’re quite obvious about it,” he said. “I’ll go rouse my brother. You go inform your sergeant.”

Lestrade nodded. Thank God he was going to get back home before the sun rose on Christmas Day.

**1:28 AM**

Mycroft had gotten Range Rovers to transport all of them back. There had been a small argument over who sat where, as the one they would be in would be fully occupied by the four passengers and the driver who would be taking them back, but eventually it was decided Sherlock would sit in the front and Mycroft, Lestrade and John would be in the back. Lestrade volunteered to sit in the middle and so John was leaning against the door, trying valiantly to rest, while the others remained quiet.

Finally the silence was too much for Lestrade. “How did you get there so quickly?” he asked, turning to Mycroft. “I mean, it took us nearly seven hours to get up there because the roads were so bad, and you got there in under six.”

“We may have ignored the speed limit,” he said. “As we are doing now. I’m afraid your sergeant’s driver is diligently following the speed limit, but as I am not in the mood to spend all evening on the road, I asked for us to get back as quickly as possible.”

Lestrade nodded. “Is it safe, though?”

“Our driver has trained to drive quickly in conditions such as these.” He pulled his attention away from the laptop that had been on his lap. “Though if you are overly concerned, we can, of course, slow down.”

“I’d rather get back quickly,” Sherlock piped up from the front. “I’m sure John would too, as there is a child who wakes up at ungodly hours who will want to see if Santa has arrived.”

“Thank God my own daughter’s past that age,” Lestrade said with a grin.

“She’s at my home, by the way,” Mycroft said.

“What? Why? She’s supposed to be in New York with her mum,” he said.

Mycroft looked uneasy. “Her mother’s new boyfriend may have made a pass at her yesterday afternoon,” he said. “She called me because she was afraid you would get on a flight to New York and gun him down. I arranged for her to fly back and she arrived on one of the last flights they let land at Heathrow.”

Lestrade turned away and slumped into the seat. “I _am_ going to kill him,” he said.

“No need. I’ve completely ruined him already,” Mycroft said, turning back to his computer. “And your daughter broke his wrist.”

Despite the situation Lestrade felt the corner of his mouth hitch up. “Did she now,” he said.

Mycroft nodded. “If he attempts to retaliate in any way, shape or form I’ll make his life as miserable as possible. No one hurts people I care about.” He went back to looking at things on the laptop and Lestrade relaxed. This was an unexpected but welcome sign. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it but he’d figure it out later. Couldn’t be anything but good, though.

**3:15 AM**

Lestrade had been dozing, his head against Mycroft’s shoulder, when he felt it nudge. “Gregory,” he heard Mycroft say quietly. Lestrade opened his eyes and then yawned before sitting up and stretching slightly. He could see they were entering London proper now. “We’re back.”

Lestrade nodded and then reached over and nudged John. “John,” he said.

“What?” he said sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“We’re back home,” he replied.

John sat up and looked around before rubbing his eyes. “God, what time is it?” he asked.

“Quarter past three,” Sherlock said from the front seat.

“Did you get any sleep?” John asked.

“Didn’t need any,” he replied. “I’ll sleep when I get home.” He turned and stuck his head between the seats to look at the three in the back. “Drop me off at Montague Street.” Lestrade knew he was smirking, and he was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one when Sherlock scowled. “She worries.”

“ _Sure_ you’re not in a relationship,” John said.

“I informed Miss Hooper that I was coming to get you before I left London,” Mycroft said. “As it seems the storm has passed, you should probably inform her you’re on your way.”

“Probably,” Sherlock said, fishing out his mobile from his pocket.

“I did the same with your wife,” Mycroft said as he turned to John. “So that she wouldn’t worry.”

“Thanks, mate,” he said. He got his own mobile out and then put it back. “If she knows you went to get me I’ll just slip into bed next to her. It’s kind of a perk of being married. You can do surprises like that.”

“I suppose it is,” Mycroft said thoughtfully.

After Sherlock’s phone call was made and he was dropped off they took John to his home, and finally Mycroft and Lestrade were taken to Mycroft’s home. Lestrade was still rather tired, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. He saw his daughter curled up on the sofa in the sitting room, a quilt draped over her, and he decided to leave her be for the moment. He and Mycroft trudged upstairs and got undressed. Lestrade didn’t bother to do anything more than throw on the bottom half of his favorite pair of pyjamas he kept there before going to his side of Mycroft’s bed and pulling back the covers and climbing in.

“Did you turn off your mobile?” Mycroft asked as he got in next to him, putting an arm around his waist and curling up next to him.

Lestrade nodded. “The only people who better wake me up tomorrow are you or Pamela. Anyone else, I may kill them.”

“I’ll find a way to cover it up, or at the very least get you a Queen’s pardon,” Mycroft said, nuzzling his neck slightly. Lestrade grinned at that. “Though when you do wake up, we should talk about Pamela’s living situation. I do think it best if it was altered somewhat.”

“How?” Lestrade asked.

“If she stayed here,” he said simply.

Lestrade was tired, and his brain was fuddled, so it took him a minute to work out the meaning. He turned to face Mycroft then. “Are you asking me to move in with you and bring my daughter with me?” he asked.

Mycroft nodded. “That had been my thought. She deserves better than that piss poor excuse for a mother. And it’s obvious we both care for her. So, obviously, we’re the better choice.”

Lestrade grinned and then leaned in and kissed him. “I don’t have a problem with that if she doesn’t,” he said when he pulled away.

“Good,” he said with a nod. After a moment Lestrade turned around again, and Mycroft held him tighter. “Good night, Gregory.”

“Good night, Mycroft,” he said as he drifted off to sleep again, feeling perfectly content despite how crappily the previous day and evening’s events had gone.


End file.
